(Untitled)

[lambwolfandman]

The Nexus is disturbed today by a tennis ball as it comes flying rather spontaneously out of thin air - quite possibly hitting an innocent passer by. The air around where the ball came from ripples. Though in the blink of an eye it's as though nothing happened. Apart from the ball bouncing around somewhere.

The next thing to appear is a stick. Half

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[allmyyesterdays]

When a tennis ball goes flying past her head, Irma takes notice. She spots the stick, too, and figures out pretty quickly where that ball came from. She raises her eyebrow at the man coming out of the portal, waiting to hear the question before saying anything, however.

Irma... gives serious thought to the question. "My own, assuming that I understood the question. And I would have to say a friend. Someone I knew wouldn't do shit with my body that I normally wouldn't." She takes a sip of the coffee in her hand, trying to keep her face carefully blank. "I'm going to assume this question isn't hypothetical for you?"

[lambwolfandman]

Give him a moment, he's acting awestruck at Irma's beauty. Supposedly. It could easily be mistaken for looking dazed at human interaction.

"Choosing your own is a bit beside the point," he chuckles. "And a friend's..." He gives her a look silently asking if that's the only option she'd pick.

To her question his smile changes into something smug and very amused. "Do I give the impression of a possessed man?"

[allmyyesterdays]

Irma assumes that he's being dazed by the Nexus in general. It does that.

"In that case..." Irma takes a sip of her coffee, then continues, "I was given another girl's memories, and thought I was her for a while. I still have her memories, but I don't think I'm her anymore. However... I guess I would pick her." At the look he gives her, Irma says "I don't like the idea of not being in control of my body." Irma has experience with this.

"No, not really. But few questions in this place are hypothetical." Irma gives a shrug.

[lambwolfandman]

"Keep a hold on the familiar. Fair enough." The corner of his mouth twists to show that wouldn't be his answer, but... "I don't suppose anyone would like losing control of their body. But what a quick and careful answer. You would lose the opportunity to see what could be if someone else was in your shoes."

In return he offers his own more dismissive shrug. "I have the memories of someone else. But I'm perfectly in control. It is as hypothetical as that."

[lapetitmauvais]

He's come to think of the Nexus as a second home now, knows it like the back of his hand. Here is the bar. Here is the black leather couch he thinks of as 'his', where he smokes, reads books and occasionally sleeps. Here is the infamous sign which, though as jarring to his eighteenth century sensibilities as any modern eyesore, has become comfortingly familiar, a piece of kitsch in the home of an otherwise beloved and faithful friend

[lambwolfandman]

At first, a grin simply spreads across Alejo's lips. Head tilting as he observe in amusement. Little chico Sebastien all alone. And without armour. What a great and mighty warrior he will become. Always so on guard.

The Spaniard allows himself to look down at Sebastien. Standing tall. Hand tightening around the handle of his sword. With no lich in sight, Alejo feels obliged to remind Sebastien who his superior is. "Currently standing around and answering the pointless questions of young whelps. I take it you're taking a bath. Or painting your nails. Ah. No. You're waiting for someone to pop out and stab you."

[lapetitmauvais]

Sebastien rolls his eyes.

"Actually, I was taking a nap." He takes a drag, exhales slowly. "Sir."

That last added just a beat too late to be sincere.

Sebastien sits on the arm of a nearby couch. He's trying hard to appear casual, even blasé, but inside he's seething. What is Alejo doing here? This is his place! A place where he can relax, do as he pleases. He was having a perfectly good day and now this! He leans over, tapping his ash into a convenient Nexus ashtray, then returns to staring at Alejo. If it's possible to communicate insolence at the cellular level, every molecule arranging itself into the precise posture needed to communicate total disdain for another's very existence, Sebastien has mastered the art.

Another slow inhale, blue eyes flicking up at Alejo through the smoke.

"There is an anti-violence field here," he explains in a bored tone. "It is entirely safe." He shrugs. "No fighting. No shooting. No stabbing. Hence my...déshabillé."

[lambwolfandman]

The rage radiating from Sebastien doesn't help him at all. It amuses Alejo if nothing else. He's well aware who, out of the two of them, would win in a fight. Even a battle of sharp tongues. Though Alejo would so desire a fight of either sort. A recent scolding calls for a less violent approach.

More teaching, less murder. Alejo almost sighs at the memory. It doesn't mean his lessons can't be thickly veiled behind insults...

"Ah. Peace and prosperity is a perfect reason to throw away one's clothes. I see, chico, I see. It does make this place so dull. No wonder you like it here, chico. You fit right in. Don't need to be strong, or interesting, or agile. You just need to be."